


sometimes a haircut more than just a haircut

by sebi



Series: Short Witcher Fics [4]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Geralt gives himself terrible haircuts, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Takes a Bath, Haircuts, Jaskier | Dandelion Takes Care of Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:48:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26013640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sebi/pseuds/sebi
Summary: Geralt doesn't make it home before the first snowfall, so he spends the winter by himself. There are multiple problems with this, but the one that bothers him most is that Vesemir isn't there to cut his hair for him. So he tries to do it himself. It goes about as well as expected. Thankfully, Jaskier comes to the rescue.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Short Witcher Fics [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1880065
Comments: 8
Kudos: 186





	sometimes a haircut more than just a haircut

**Author's Note:**

> I just wrote this in about ten minutes, and it hasn't been proofread, so all mistakes are mine. I hope you enjoy!

Geralt always has Vesemir cut his hair for him, but he didn’t go home for the winter this year, caught up in a contract too far from home too late in the autumn. His white hair has been growing all year, and it now reaches the middle of his back. He needs to cut it. It tangles as he tosses and turns in the middle of the night in whatever place he manages to find shelter. Sure, it’s keeping him somewhat warm, but it doesn’t help much. He needs to cut it.

It’s sometime in the very early morning, a couple hours before dawn, Geralt guesses. He sits in a cave, cross legged in front of the last of the burning embers that cast a low glow of orange around the cave walls. He’s taken shelter here because the opening is wide enough to fit Roach inside as well, and he can’t leave her out in the late winter snowstorm tonight. Slowly, he takes out his dagger, and as carefully as he can, he hacks away at his hair. The cut is uneven and the ends are scraggly, but it sits at his shoulders now, where he wanted it to sit. A pile of white hair lays limp in his lap and around his hips. Geralt picks up the hair and tosses it into the fire. He casts Igni to make it light again, shivering from the wind coming in through the mouth of the cave.

Geralt finds Jaskier a few weeks later at the start of spring. The bard is playing in a tavern where Geralt came to search for food and a contract. There was no contract, and the people took no pity on him. So instead he sits in the corner, hoping Jaskier will notice him.

By some stroke of luck, Jaskier does notice Geralt. It’s towards the end of his set that the two make eye contact. Geralt is sure that his eyes are pleading, begging Jaskier for some help, some coin, some food. His hair is still scraggly and uneven, a very bad haircut that he clearly did himself. His cheeks are sunken and he’s much too thin for a witcher, having spent the whole winter on his own, surviving off of the meat he could hunt and the little bit of coin he had left from the last contract. But now his coin purse is empty and he hasn’t eaten in three days.

The bard comes over to Geralt and sits down across from him. “Fancy seeing you here, Geralt.”

Geralt grunts in response.

“Ah, still not talkative, I see. Did you order yourself some food already or…?”

Geralt shakes his head. “No coin left.”

Jaskier’s eyes widen and he nods in understanding as he takes in the emaciated and sad sight of his witcher. “I’ll get you something. Stay right here.”

Before Geralt can protest, the bard is up and heading over to the bar to order him some food and drink. After a few moments, he comes back, grinning like he’s found buried treasure when in reality he has a basket of bread rolls and a mug of ale. He sets them down in front of Geralt.

Geralt doesn’t reach to take one, waiting for permission. He isn’t sure if they’re for the both of them or just for Jaskier and whether he can have one or not.

“Go on. Have one,” Jaskier encourages, eyes kind as he pushes the basket towards Geralt.

Geralt takes one and hesitantly takes a bite of it. He sighs, the warm bread settling in his stomach as he chews and then swallows. He devours the first roll. Jaskier hands him another one.

“How long since you’ve eaten last?” he asks.

Geralt holds up three fingers.

“Three days or three weeks?” Jaskier asks.

“Days,” Geralt replies, mouth full of bread. For once, Jaskier doesn’t reprimand him on his manners.

“Oh, wolf,” Jaskier says, voice a soft coo that tells Geralt that the bard takes pity on him.

“‘S fine. Been longer before,” he tries to argue.

But, of course, Jaskier won’t have any of that. “After you finish eating, we’re going up to my room and you’re taking a bath. Because I can guarantee based on the smell and the look of you that you haven’t bathed in at least a month.”

The bard is right, but Geralt grunts grumpily still.

“Hey, none of that, Mister Grumpypants. You’re getting a bath. I already ordered one.”

Geralt grunts again, grabbing another roll. He manages to eat the whole basket of them and wash it down with the ale in one gulp.

As soon as Geralt has finished, Jaskier pulls him up the stairs to his room. Geralt deposits his bags and his swords on the ground in the corner, then he stands awkwardly in the middle of the room, not sure what to do with himself.

Jaskier looks up from where he’s preparing the bath with the oils he has to scent the water a bit. “Undress. You know the drill.”

Once he has the order, he undresses, folding his dirty clothes and setting his armour aside to be cleaned after his bath. And maybe a nap. He removes the hair tie from his hair, letting the uneven locks cascade down onto his shoulders. He made the mistake of cutting it when half of it was tied back, so it looks even more disastrous than it would have otherwise.

Now fully nude, Geralt feels exposed and vulnerable, even though he’s done this a thousand times with Jaskier.

The bard stands up and beckons him over with a crook of his finger. Geralt obeys. “In you go. The water is boiling, just like you like it. Because for some reason you like to boil yourself alive. Why you like it, I’ll never know, but it’s not my place to decide.”

Geralt gets into the wooden tub and sighs at the warmth of the water surrounding him. It feels like all the winter chill in his bones is finally melting away with the spring.

When he opens his eyes again, he sees Jaskier watching him with a fond look on his face. “Soap?” he asks.

Jaskier doesn’t hand him the soap. Instead, he rolls up his sleeves, dips his hands in the water, then rubs the soap onto his own hands. Once his hands are soapy enough, he starts rubbing them over Geralt’s back and chest. “You’re a grimy mess, pup,” he murmurs. Geralt whimpers. “But it’s okay. I’ll clean you up.”

And clean him up the bard does. It only changes pace when he gets to Geralt’s hair. Noticing the uneven cut on his witcher’s white hair as he washes it, he sighs. “You tried to cut it yourself, didn’t you, pup?” he asks sadly.

Geralt nods. “Vesemir does it usually. Didn’t make it home this year.”

“I figured. You never come to me this thin and pale. I can fix it for you. It’ll be a little shorter than you usually have it, but I’ll fix up all the uneven ends, if you’ll let me.”

“Please,” Geralt whispers.

Jaskier stands and grabs his own dagger from his pack and comes back down to sit on a stool behind Geralt. “Stay still, please. I’m going to cut it now.”

For a few minutes, there is nothing but the sounds of their heartbeats, their breathing, and the cutting of hair. White hair falls in damp clumps around the back of the tub.

After a few moments, Jaskier pats his shoulder. “All done. You can feel it now.”

Geralt lifts a hand to the back of his head and feels his hair. It comes to about two inches above his shoulders. It’s shorter than he usually wears it, but it’ll grow back. At least it’s even now.

“Thank you,” he whispers, looking back at Jaskier.

The bard presses a kiss to his wolf’s forehead. “You’re very welcome, my sweet pup. Now let’s get you out of the tub and into bed.”

Geralt doesn’t protest, letting Jaskier pull him from the tub and dry him off. He slips into some new underwear, and then he stumbles sleepily to the bed. Jaskier gets in behind him, wrapping his arms around Geralt’s waist and holding him close. He kisses the top of Geralt’s head that is tucked up against his chest.

“Sleep well, my wolf.”


End file.
